


Wake Up In The Morning (feeling like the Ruby)

by RobinLorin



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Beauregard's Resting Bitch Face, Episode Tag, Gen, Nott POV, Silly, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 19:36:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14837897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinLorin/pseuds/RobinLorin
Summary: “Now what we do,” said Nott, her eyes gleaming with cunning, “is have a huge cookout and invite the gnolls.”





	Wake Up In The Morning (feeling like the Ruby)

“Now what we do,” said Nott, her eyes gleaming with cunning, “is have a huge cookout and invite the gnolls.” 

She watched the group look around at each other. Nott could sense hesitation from a few of them. Caleb, of course, nodded faithfully: he was on her side. 

“The idea does have merit,” mused Mollymauk. No one could tell if he was having them on. Nott eyed him suspiciously. 

“Hold on,” said Beau. 

Fjord apparently caught her spool of thought. “Didn’t the gnolls just take all the meat from... everywhere?” 

“Yeah,” said Beau. She glared at Fjord in appreciation. 

Fjord shifted uncomfortably. “What?” he asked her. 

Beau’s glare deepened. “What?” 

“I was backing you up,” Fjord explained in an undertone. 

“I know that!” Beau crossed her arms. “I’m grateful.” 

“You don’t look it.” Fjord gestured toward his face. “You’re all...”

“Evil,” supplied Nott. 

“Constipated?” suggested Mollymauk. 

“Scary-looking,” said Fjord. 

Beau scowled harder. “Fuck you guys. This is how I express gratitude. I didn’t have to be grateful. Actually, you know what? I take it back.” She glared at Fjord again, in what Nott supposed was a glare of hostility. It didn’t look any different from her glare of gratitude. 

Jester’s hand shot into the air. She waved it furiously until everyone was looking at her. “I will make the invitations!” she chirped. She spun to Caleb. “Caleb, can I borrow parchment?” 

“You cannot borrow it, but you can have some,” Caleb said quietly. Caleb was so nice. 

“Oh, yes! That’s what I meant.” Jester knelt where she was and laid the parchment on the ground tenderly. She dug into her bag for her writing utensils. “Now, what time should we have our cookout?” She dipped a quill in ink and began writing “COOKOUT! BRING YOUR FRIENDS! ESPECIALLY GNOLLS!” in flourishy cursive. “Ooh, maybe I will draw a little grill and spatula!” 

“Draw the charcoal kind of grill,” advised Mollymauk. “It gives a better taste to the meat.” 

“Wait, are we seriously doing this?” said Beau. “What about the little problem of, uh, all the fricking meat being taken by the gnolls already?” 

Nott sighed loudly. Beau was such a party pooper. “Are you  _ trying _ to rain on my parade?” 

“Wait, we’re having a parade now?” asked Fjord. 

From her place on the ground, Jester looked up and gestured with her quill at Beau. “Maybe you should be the party greeter, Beau! So you can practice your nice face!” 

“I don’t want a nice face.” 

“I don’t think we should greet them at all,” said Mollymauk. “We should lie in waiting and ambush the whole horde.” 

“We could set traps,” said Beau with relish. “Gnoll-traps.” Her face lit up as she began to imagine intricate and, no doubt, bloody contraptions she could rig. 

“In the spirit of the occasion, I suggest water balloons,” said Mollymauk. “Filled with acid.” Again, it was harder to tell if he was just taking the piss. 

“The meat, though,” Fjord appealed, turning to the others. 

Nott rolled her eyes. Tall people really didn’t have enough brain to go around. “We don’t  _ really _ have to cook meat,” she said. “We could just  _ say  _ we’re going to have hamburgers and, and things.” 

“Hamburgers?” 

“Mm-hmm!” Nott said enthusiastically. “Caleb made them for me once. They’re even better with  _ cheese _ .” The adrenaline from the fight faded suddenly, and she plopped down in the grass. It wasn’t such a long way down, after all. She wished she had a hamburger with cheese at that moment. “Mmmm. Cheese. Maybe we should have a cookout anyway. Just for us.” 

“Oh, I like cheese!” said Jester. 

Caleb followed Nott’s lead and sat in the grass. Fjord, uncomfortable towering over them, followed suit. “Tell me about these ‘hamburgers,’” he said. 

Nott poked Caleb. He took his cue and began explaining the hot meat sandwich idea to Fjord. Nott turned a little to check on Beau and Mollymauk. Any two members of a group who broke off and talked amongst themselves ought to be watched. 

Beau was explaining a trap idea to Mollymauk. Her hands moved in sharp, wary angles to outline her idea. “If we can find some boxes, we can prop them up on a stick and put, I don’t know, a hot dog underneath ‘em.” 

“Hang on, can we serve hot dogs to dog creatures?” said Mollymauk. 

“Hot dogs aren’t really made of dogs,” Beau said. “And we won’t have any meat anyway, remember?” 

“Oh, right.” 

Beau rolled her eyes. “The continuity in this group’s memory is atrocious.” She raised her voice to bring the two side conversations together again. “Hey, Jester! What are you putting on this sign?” 

Jester held up the piece of parchment proudly. “‘Lots of yummy meat and no tricks!’ I was thinking of also drawing pictures of food, in case they can’t read, you know?” 

“Our pressing question is, should we advertise hot dogs?” asked Mollymauk. He wandered the few feet required to bring him closer to the others, and sank down on the grass as well. He caught Nott looking at the baubles on his horns -- she couldn’t help it, they were distracting! -- and gave her a smirk. 

Fjord was twisting up his face in contemplation. “Can we serve them hot dogs? Like, ethically?” 

“That’s what I was wondering,” said Mollymauk. 

Caleb nudged Nott gently. She peered up at him. It was a smaller distance between their faces than usual, when he was sitting down. She could see his freckles. 

“Nott dog,” said Caleb quietly. “Ha ha.” 

Caleb was so funny. “You’re very funny,” Nott told him admiringly. “But please don’t make me into a sausage.” 

“I would never,” Caleb told her solemnly. 

“Maybe if we call them something else,” Beau was saying. She was the only one still standing. She crossed her arms and cocked a hip. “Like hot… humans.” 

The others looked up at her from their spots on the ground. No one needed to say anything. Their silence was damning enough. 

“You come up with something better!” Beau sputtered. 

“Better than ‘hot humans’?” Caleb asked. Ha! Caleb was on a roll today! 

“The gnolls like eating humans,” Beau said defensively. “It makes fucking sense, okay?” 

“I will just put ‘sausages’ on the sign, okay?” said Jester decisively. 

“Whatever,” Beau grouched. She changed the subject unsubtly. “We need music. It isn’t a cookout without some jams.” 

Fjord perked up. “Put on some Kesha.”  

Jester tilted her head in confusion. “Kesha?”

Fjord stuttered. Nott came to his rescue. He was probably embarrassed about being so open with his musical tastes. You know, like when you’re at Fantasy Zumba class and the teacher asks if anyone wants to take the aux cord, and then you become super self-conscious about your choice of playlists? 

“Oh, a goblin singer!” she said. “ _ Very _ famous for her party bops. I’m impressed you know about her, Fjord.” She made sure to layer her voice with admiration. Fjord really needed to work on his self-confidence. 

“Uh, yeah. Saw her in concert a few years ago,” Fjord said gruffly. 

“Maybe a villager has a Boombox we can borrow!” said Jester. 

“Ye Olde Boomboxe?” said Fjord. He scratched at his chin contemplatively. “Haven’t seen one of those around in more’n a decade.” 

“They’re retro now,” said Beau. “Someone’s gotta have one.” 

As it turned out, one of the villagers did have an Olde Boomboxe they graciously lent to the effort. Jester may have assumed to have their cooperation, and Beau might have taken the Boomboxe out of their house and not looked back, but it was all for the greater good. The villagers would thank them later. 

Caleb and Nott scavenged some scraps of meat from the food pantries and curing basements of the ruined town, too. Not a lot, but enough to send a smokey barbeque smell through the air, like a lovely stink trail that would lift the gnolls off their feet and waft them toward the cookout. Nott hoped there was enough food left at the end of all this to assemble some kind of half-assed hamburger. 

Fjord had roped Mollymauk into finding what Fjord called “fixin’s.” Little pickles and onions and eugh, vegetables and shit like that. Apparently they went on the meat, but. Nott wasn’t close enough to this group to trust their word on vegetables. They were not  _ there _ yet. 

“Pickles are okay,” Caleb confided to Nott. “I think you’d like them.” 

“If you say so,” said Nott, unconvinced. Caleb was smart, but then again he was awfully tall. 

To kick off the party, Mollymauk started the grill. Then Beau started the grill. Finally Caleb started the grill, and the charcoal actually started to smolder. 

“Knew we should have used a gas grill,” Fjord muttered. 

There was only one CD in ye Olde Boomboxe. Sherylle Crowe. Passable for a cookout, but not the kind of party bops Nott had been looking forward to. She tried some a capella for a bit. The others refused to provide a harmony, though, so it didn’t go over so great. 

“Not that this isn’t hilarious and entertaining,” said Mollymauk, “but I think your singing is going to scare off our guests.” 

“It has to be a group effort,” said Nott, exasperated. She looked at Caleb for support. 

Caleb looked away. “I am not so good of a singer,” he said. “You know this.” 

Nott recalled the last time Caleb had tried to busk, and winced reflexively. “Fine,” she said, and put on the CD. 

The scene was set. The food was cooking, the music was blasting, and the gnolls were probably waking up hungry. Half the group faded into the surrounding cover. Nott covered her face with her mask and nervously took her position near the food table. 

“We’ve got to make it realistic,” said Jester, who had appointed herself party planner. She produced a beach ball from… somewhere. “Nott, catch!” 

Nott froze as the enormous beach ball descended upon her. “Gah!” She batted it away. The ball emitted a sad whine as her claws punctured it. 

“Chillax,” said Beau tersely. She was manning the grill and glaring at Nott. 

“You chillax it!” snapped Nott. She couldn’t be blamed for defending herself against an assault! 

Beau said from behind gritted teeth, “Just relax, okay?” 

For the sake of the ruse, Nott did her best to approximate human emotions. “This is a fun time and I am having fun! Ha!” She picked up the limp beach ball and threw it back at Jester. 

“Oh, this is a fun game too, I guess,” said Jester. She looked uncertainly at the deflated ball. 

“Quiet!” said Beau. She was looking towards the north out of the corner of her eye. “I think I see them.” 

Jester turned around and shielded her eyes with a hand. 

“Don’t stare at them!” said Beau. 

Jester waved her hands over her head. “Hellooooo! Are you here for the cookout? We have lots of fun party games too!” 

“Gods dammit,” said Beau. 

The gnolls were approaching. They yipped and growled at each other, eyeing the party with caution. Oh, boy. In the light of day they were even uglier and taller than Nott remembered. She gulped and took a swig from her flask. Then she readied her Mage Hand. 

“Twister and hula hoops!” Jester was saying. “And that game where you throw the beanbags in the carboard cutouts, you know?” 

“Cornholes?” said Nott, distracted for a moment. 

Jester wrinkled her nose. “I guess so, but that word always sounds dirty to me. You know… like, corn hole?” 

“Hmm,” said Nott. “Gross.” 

“They’re getting closer,” Beau hissed. “When should we attack?” 

“Well, we probably want Fjord and Molly and Caleb to attack first, so they get a surprise attack, right?” said Jester. 

Nott watched the approaching gang of gnolls. “They’re getting awfully close…” Now would be a really good time for Caleb to attack. Or now. Now? She hoped Caleb hadn’t fallen down. He was so squishy, she really shouldn’t have taken her eyes off of him. 

“Fuck it,” said Beau. She slid into her defensive pose. “Wait, wait. I got it.” She raised her voice. “You here for the feast, motherfuckers? Cuz vengeance… is served!” 

With a shout, she lead the charge. 

“Ooh, that’s a good one!” said Jester, and followed. 

* * *

In the aftermath, Nott wiped some gnoll blood off a chunk of rib meat. She crunched the bone as it went down. Hmm. A bit spicy. She went over to Caleb and offered the rest of the rib.

Caleb shook his head. He looked a bit nauseous. He was probably still dizzy from that hit over the head. 

“Is this going to be a theme?” Nott asked. “You almost dying every time we fight?” 

Caleb groaned and pushed himself to his feet. “Probably,” he said. 

“Don’t you think that’s rather defeatist?” Fjord suggested gently. 

Caleb spread his arms. He kept his head bowed, avoiding eye contact. “Look at me. I am squishy.” Now Fjord had made Caleb self-conscious! Nott glared at Fjord.

“Hey!” said Jester. “You know what would help you feel better? Lots of food!”

Nott perked up. She could help Caleb! “Food always makes me feel better!” she agreed. “Caleb, you stay right here. I’ll make you a hamburger.” She swallowed the rest of her rib and began dashing around to all the food stations. 

“No, I don’t need… no thank you, I…” 

“Make sure you add pickles!” Jester said. “They’re good for your health! Well, technically, the pickle juice is, but pickles are good too!” 

Caleb reluctantly took the loaded burger Nott pushed into his hands. “Really, I….” 

“Down the hatch!” Nott said cheerfully. She opened her mouth wide and chomped her teeth together a few times, just to remind him how to bite. Sometimes Caleb needed a push. 

“Thank you, Nott,” said Caleb faintly. Obviously, the battle had taken a toll on him. 

A smooth voice broke over their party. “Hey.” 

They spun around. Beau put up her bo stick in automatic defense. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood in white robes. He blinked white-pupiled eyes at the assembled group and the scattered gnoll body parts. A small bird swooped out of the sky and landed on his staff. 

The man cracked a small grin. Nott felt her heart flutter. Jester sighed dreamily. 

“What’s up,” said the stranger. “You start the party without me?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Wake up in the morning feeling like the Ruby   
> Grab my weapons, I'm out the door; I'm gonna sack this city   
> Before I leave, brush my teeth with a flagon of ale  
> 'Cause when I leave for the fight, I ain't turning tail.


End file.
